


Battle lines

by millygal



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angry!Sam, M/M, Poking the Bear, irritated!gene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 13:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: No man standing...





	Battle lines

"You got no clue how God damned bloody infuriatin' you really are, do you Tyler?"

There's a degree of death-wish syndrome knocking round Sam's brain as he inclines his head and flicks an eyebrow in Gene's direction.

As Gene advances, fists balled, eyes glinting, Sam thinks perhaps this might be the day that he finally gets his Guv'nor to give in and admit exactly how affected he really is by this thing between them.

It's like an invisible cord connecting one to the other. No matter how hard they both try and pull apart, ultimately they spring back together, usually banging heads.

Sam's fully aware he's playing with fire, but half the fun is in the burning. That slightly salty sensation that floods your mouth before the pain and frustration kick in and you either have to holler and scream or throw cold water on it before it scars.

Never for a moment did Sam think Gene'd actually bite, Gene never bites, just backs down or forces Sam to back down before something's done that cannot be undone.

There's a barely visible line that Gene's drawn in the dirt and the message is clear, 'do not cross'. It keeps him from saying and doing what he really wants, not that he ever actually pulls his punches, verbal or otherwise.

Some days, when he's far too tired and far too fucked off with living inside a parody of a seventies cop show, Sam pushes that bit harder just to see what colour Gene's eyes'll go, whether the flecks of gold reflected in their depths is a trick of the light or wishful thinking.

There's nothing quite like hunkering down and watching a thunderstorm from the comfort of your own front room, Sam was never one to sit in and hide though. Gene's the thunderstorm and Sam seems to like the occasional wander in the rain.

The mask slips, for an instant there's nothing more than shear determination between Gene, Sam and the desk that's separating the sheriff and his frustrating deputy.

Sam can see exactly how much effort Gene's putting into not hauling him off his feet and across that pitted and chipped surface and it sends a shiver up his spine that reaches all the way from his navel to the fillings in his teeth.

The barely there control, the threat of violence, however abhorrent Sam usually finds it, is what's got him completely hooked on picking at the wound. It's the thought of turning Gene inside out and upside down so many times that he doesn't know his arse from his elbow and can't remember how to keep his hold on that hard earned control.

Despite what his other underlings may think, Sam knows exactly how much of a hold Gene has on his emotions. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Gene is the very definition of this and Sam wants to be the one to yank at the threads holding it all in until Gene's so unravelled he can't pull himself back together.

As Gene skirts the edge of his desk, Sam finds himself holding his breath and hoping, praying even, that today will be the day.

The burning's the thing.

 


End file.
